((AN: So, my first attempt at any sort of HP fanfiction. I've been a fan of reading for a while and this was gnawing at the back of my mind. I always loved the stories of getting over the war and how it mentally affected, so this was my go at it! I hope you can hold on to this slow paced story, cause that's how i like it, with all the slow built up tension. Haha, certainly inspired by all the long classic novels I've been reading for school.

Sorry for it being so wordy, Harry's a brooding young lad with far to many thoughts, haha! I'll try to get more dialogue as the story unfolds! Enjoy! ))

Chapter One

Catching up, Catching Breath

War changes people. A simple enough concept to understand, right? Well, I never understood the true depth of such a concept until now. Now that Voldemort's gone, now that Dumbledore's gone, now that I have to see everyone I hoped I never had to see again. I could have been let off without having to return there, could have been shipped right off to begin working for the Ministry. But that would have been too easy, wouldn't it?

The Ministry was eager to receive me. My friends and their families, however, were not quite so eager. Hermione downright thought it an abomination to move on without completing my education. What more was I supposed to learn? How to sit still through a boring lecture when all I had was the urge to move about? How to occupy my mind with something other then my nightmares? I'd learned plenty about magic from being out fighting a war.

The conflict, of course, continued—even months after everything was settled, after everything having to do with the blasted war was to be left behind, forgotten in the past. But, of course, who was going to let me, the wizarding world's savior, forget the great deed I had done? They didn't know anything. The help I had, the resources and knowledge that I lacked. If not for the enormous amount of support I had, not to mention my stupid run of luck, they'd all be dead. Voldemort would have won. They understood so little and I could read that between the lines of the countless numbers of letters I got shortly after everything ended. There were letters of praise and hope as well as those who thought right to tell me they blamed me for not ending it all sooner.

Having to sit though the sheer number of trials and hearings that I had to was torture. Every moment was a reminder of the terror, a pull back into my nightmares that I desperately wanted to escape. I had to do it though. I had to right all those wronged, I ultimately had to do it for Dumbledore.

All I ever talked about was Dumbledore during that time, if I even talked at all. I had managed to seclude myself, even amongst all the activity at the Burrow. Yes, of course, I was living at the Burrow, or what was rebuilt of it, after being destroyed during the war. No one thought me well enough to go off and live by myself. I was honestly surprised I was not forced to go get help, or even sent off to St. Mungo's to be cured of whatever was ailing me. Someone always had a close eye on me- even Ginny, after all my attempts to push her away.

I cared about her, and my friends, which is why I wanted them away from me. They all seemed capable with going on with their lives, even with Fred's death and all the other tragedy surrounding them while I was stuck, quite firmly, in the past. Still thinking everyday about how things could have gone differently, who I could have saved—Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore, Lupin, and countless others. They could see it in my face and my lack of words, so, naturally, they worried. I just wanted them to finally give up. Which slowly, but surely, they did.

That is until word was out that Hogwarts was finally finished being rebuilt. Hermione would not let up about returning to school. She prattled on and on about how it would prepare me better for this and set me up more for that. She'd convinced Ron to go back, who was just as willing to be received by the Ministry as I was. I eventually was given no choice but to return. They never understood my hesitation about going back, that was, because I didn't want them to. I didn't want to tell them much of anything, really. I mean, I'm sure they could have guessed it was because the horrors that happened there, but it was more deeply rooted then that. I didn't know how to explain it in my head, let alone express it aloud. So, I kept quiet about it and stubbornly allowed my return to Hogwarts.

However, news somehow got out, as it always did, about my return to school, so, of course, most of those that were in my year were prompted to return as well. That was certainly not what I wanted at all. It would be bad enough seeing the building, the portraits, the professors, and the other students I didn't know quite as well. I couldn't imagine being among those I wanted to think of as my equals in the war, but were clearly not seen by every one else as such. Even Ron and Hermione were considered second rate to me. I hardly felt worthy enough to still be walking around let alone being praised at every turn. I did not want that, any of that.

...

I got out of having to walk through the crowded streets of Diagon Alley, which undoubtedly would have been twice as crowded with the high hopes I would be there, collecting my supplies for the coming year. The Weasleys were merciful enough to realize I didn't have the strength or will for such an outing, so I finally had a day alone to myself while they and Hermione were out eagerly getting prepared for school. At that point they were pretty much running everything for me. Hermione replied to all the letters I got requesting interviews or autographs, learning my signature better then myself. Molly would feed me just as well as she always did. Ron tried to provide company for the times I would flat out refuse to be around anyone else. It was nice to be alone for a day and not feel like such a burden on everyone else.

For the first hour or so, I simply wandered about the house, enjoying the lack of voices and sounds of activity. I sat at the large kitchen table, eating something I managed to cook for myself. I must say, after not cooking since I lived with the Dursleys, I wasn't too bad at it. Such a simple and innocent thought as that would send my mind off on a tangent, off to dark places that I wish I could block out. The rest of the day, I contemplated obliviating myself, willing to risk ending up how Lockhart did, in the insane ward of St. Mungo's, never to be cured. I even had the thought go through my head to get on my broom, fly up high into the clouds, and pitch myself off. Maybe I did need to be watched at all times, locked away even.

I ended up trying to sleep until they returned. Trying being the key word. For years before the war I was plagued with nightmares and, of course, they only got more vivid and far worse after it. Despite the nightmares I tried to sleep as often as possible, it kept out the dull pain I always felt, it kept my mind from trailing to darker places then my nightmares could put me. I stayed in bed more often as the days grew nearer to the first day back at Hogwarts and everyone could see how much more I became agitated and easily irked at everything. Even Molly was showing signs of being through with me.

...

It was the night before we were to leave. My chest and head ached more then ever at the thought. I swear it was almost as if my scar was burning as it used to. But, of course, it wasn't. I listened, as I always did, to everyone around the kitchen table, talking eagerly about the next morning. Ignoring me and acting as if I wasn't this weight that burdened them. As if I wasn't even there. Good.

Hermione was ready to open a package she got earlier in the day from Hogwarts. She wanted to wait until everyone was around to open it even though all of us were very sure what it was the moment she got it. She ripped open the package carefully, reading the letter as she held between her fingers a small badge. "—and Hogwarts is very happy to welcome you back as Head Girl!" She smiled brightly at everyone as she read the end of the letter aloud proudly.

Ron had called out from across the table at her, reaching his hand out. "Oi, 'Mione, pass it here! I wanna have a look!" And, of course, she passed it to him.

Everyone was congratulating her, smiling, overall happy with what live had given to them despite what they had lost. Everyone except me, though I could tell, even from all the way at the other end of the table, George wasn't as happy as he let on. Actually, there was a lot I had been noticing about George over the summer when I allowed my mind to concentrate on the present. Like how, for example, during every meal he left the seat beside him empty and how he always seemed to turn and look at the seat or to his side unconsciously whenever he had something to say. I don't think anyone else noticed this. They were far too busy being worried about me. I wanted to tell him how sorry I was for causing a part of him to die, to die and go practically unnoticed, it seemed. Though glances we made across the table were usually enough to pass what I was thinking to him. I almost wanted to suggest we go pitch ourselves off our brooms together, but I knew he was too strong for that. I heard him talk to Fred in the dark when he thought everyone else was asleep, I heard him say he was going to live life for the both of them, that he just needed time to get used to living twice as full. It just made me feel twice as pathetic and full of ache.

As everyone was getting to bed, Molly passed me on my way to the room Ron and I shared and kissed me on the cheek as always, telling me she already packed my trunk. How did I honestly expect to get through school after being dependent on everyone for such a long time?

Falling asleep was even more difficult that night. Having learned plenty of silencing and protecting charms over the past year and getting better at them over the summer, I didn't risk waking anyone up with the thrashing and yelling that seized me in my sleep. Though even after all that time, it was still startling to wake up with my mouth tasting of blood from biting my tongue or the inside of my cheeks. I didn't think it possible, but the ache I felt was even more powerful then the day before.

Everyone was already awake, knowing it useless to try and wake me before my body was ready. I refused to get up for breakfast, even when Ron had tried to bring it to me—even when he tried to feed me. Though, I knew I couldn't stay here and continue to burden Molly and Arthur. I knew I must eventually move on like everyone else, or at least pretend as if I did.

...

Seeing the Hogwarts express, how was I to even express how I felt? I didn't think it appropriate to cry like Hermione had, I didn't even want to risk breathing in the smoke it let off, for fear of it setting me into some sort of fit. My knees were weak and I could not catch my breath no matter how hard I tried. My friends, of course, were worried for me, but knew better then to attempt to comfort me at the moment. Too many angry outbursts when I was in moods like this for them to want to risk it in private any longer, let alone even think to attempt it in public.

Walking into the train and to the small compartment in which I sat was every bit as agonizing as it was expected to be. I could breathe even less as the air was heavy with the eyes I could feel crawling all over me and with whispering I couldn't hear because of the loud ringing in my ears. I imagined what they must think of me.

'He looks so tired…'

'I wonder if everything they're saying in the Daily Prophet is true…'

'There he goes, our savior…'

I would have much rather preferred animosity directed at me then the wonder and praise I got. Everything grew ever worse as dread spread though me when I saw my old dormmates shuffling in front of me to find a seat in the train. Flashes of dead or nearly dead faces passed before my eyes, of old friends that I never wanted to see or think about again. I know they noticed me, as everyone always did, but I was thankful that they didn't acknowledge me because I had the feeling that I would have lost it then and there if they had.

But, of course, nothing can be simple for me. It had to be something far worse then friendly acknowledgement. Beyond all the ringing in the train, which came from my own head, I heard a scoff. Loud, obnoxious, nearly made me faint right there. I wished I hadn't turned my head and I wished my friends were not too late in pulling me into the small compartment. I wished it wasn't too late, but it was; my mind was already sent reeling into the abyss of the past. Suddenly, I was there at the Astronomy tower, I could still feel the chill to my bones as if I were reliving it at that very moment. Again, suddenly, I was swollen, on the floor of a large, dark, and foreboding room. I hadn't realized anything going on around me, so next I knew I was staring out the window of the train, the sky bright and mocking of my mindset. My thoughts flit immediately from present to past again, to the three trials I had absolutely refused to attend in person and the one I refused to be involved in whatsoever.

Hermione's insistent voice knew how to break itself through my mental fog that tended to block out all else. "Harry! Harry, look at me!"

I snapped my gaze towards her. Something in my eyes was probably too harsh, my mind being in it's darkened place, as she had flinched back, giving me those pleading eyes as if she knew any of the things that went on in my head.

"Harry, please-" she had cut herself off as she always did whenever she felt it was useless trying to talk to me any more. She had been giving up faster and more often as time passed. I knew they just couldn't wait to get me off their hands to bother someone else.

The rest of the train ride my mind and body became even more restless. I ached and cramped, but I could not risk taking even a step outside the compartment, I didn't want to even risk standing to try to stretch because something beyond my control would inevitably happen to spiral everything even further out of my control. Though it's not like I even knew what control ever was. Everything had always been out of my control, out of my realm of understanding; which, of course, would bring my mind to think about the ever so secretive Dumbledore.

My thoughts delved back to their favorite dark places.